Chapter Five
Xander
IT'S ALMOST TWO AM, and I've been sitting in my car for hours. And I haven't ended shit.
Instead, I've been sitting here, parked in a shadowed alley by Skin on Skin, watching Liam work like a fucking stalker. The cool night air seeps in through the cracked window, but I barely notice the chill as I grip the steering wheel tightly.
I almost walked out of my car and gazillion times now, almost marched over, almost confronted him. Almost.
Because what the fuck am I going to say? Hey, remember when I asked you out, and you said no? Yeah, I'm not having it, we're going out?
For fuck's sake.
The line to the club has long evaporated, single groups of patrons coming by in fifteen-minute intervals.
Liam's sitting on his stool, black shades propped on top of his head.
I'm parked in the distance and I can't see his face clearly, but my mind supplies the details, half his frame illuminated by the pink neon sign, the other half bathing in the moonlight.
And I still don't have the courage to walk up to him.
A thought flashes through my mind—I could just go home. Forget I came here, forget I've wasted hours going through what-ifs.
But if I do that, then I'm just a creep who lurks in alleyways, watching people work. And that's not me.
I swallow, my throat dry like a desert and give myself a nod of encouragement. It's now or never.
My fingers tremble as I open the car door. The creak of the hinges sounds impossibly loud in the stillness. Stepping out, I make sure not to make a peep as I close them with a soft thud.
This is it.
I take a deep breath and straighten up, hoping that adjusting my frame will give me the courage I need.
But it doesn't, and my legs are wobbly as I walk over to, well, probably get rejected again by a person I'm technically not supposed to be interested in, anyway.
I'm halfway between my car and the club when the front door opens, and a guy emerges. I hastily take a step back, plastering my back against a wall, hiding myself in the shadows once again. I just need to wait him out. I don't need for strangers to witness my desperation.
The man walks the short carpet between the door and Liam's post. But instead of walking past him, he stops at the end of the carpet and says something to Liam.
They bump fists and Liam rises from his stool.
And only then, with both of them standing straight, it hits me—the size of the other guy, his massive frame matching Liam's.
Their matching outfits. The way Liam pats him on the back and walks along the carpet until he disappears inside the club with the other guy making himself comfortable on the bouncer's stool.
For fuck's sake! That's what I get for creeping around for hours on end.
Alright then. The club it is.
I push off the wall, marching faster this time. If Liam disappears in the crowd, I will never find him. It's not until I'm face to face with the wannabe-Liam that I realize I'm not on that fucking list.
Shit.
The new bouncer gives me a rude once over and arches his eyebrow in anticipation. His bulky frame blocks the entryway, muscles straining against his tight black t-shirt.
Go on, Xander. You can do this. "Umm, hi. Hey,” I stutter. “I'm… IT services. You called about a problem with the terminals?"
The guy's face grows stormier, and he sits up straight, his eyes almost leveled with mine despite him sitting down. He's not having any of that. A vein bulges in his thick neck as he glares at me.
I swallow, the vision of getting my ass handed to me flashing through my mind. I shouldn't risk it. I should just say I'm confused and bolt. Unless… "I'm joking. It's Blake," I say. "Blake Jacobs. I'm on the list?"
I count backwards from ten and sweat bullets, my cheeks flushing. If the guy actually knows Blake, I'm done. I'm definitely getting my ass kicked.
I'm down to four when the guy finally breaks his stare and looks down at the fucking list he's holding. He scans the page for no more than a second before he nods. "Enjoy your night, sir," he says and pulls back the velvet rope.
I'm holding my breath as I dash past him, and it's not until the heavy club door closes behind me that I let out a deep exhale, tension rolling down my shoulders.
Great. In the span of a single night, I managed to turn myself into a stalker and a fraud. And it's just fucking beginning.
The club is exactly how I remember it.
I try to squeeze myself between half-naked people, various moans and groans dying out amidst the blast of music. Outside might be long asleep, but this place? This place never sleeps.
I slowly inch my way forward without a sense of direction, scanning the place in search of the only person I actually want to see. How am I ever going to find him?
The main room alone is massive, and there must be fifty different corridors, and rooms, and nooks and crannies. Still, I'm determined.
I turn my head to look behind me, making sure I haven't walked past Liam already when I bump into something hard on my way. My head snaps forward and I yelp, taking a sharp step back.
I bumped into a guy. No biggie. Except the guy's mouth is currently connected with another guy's mouth in a soul-sucking kiss.
Their chests are bare, hands roaming along each other's bodies.
My gaze drops down to where their pelvises rock against each other, visible outlines of erections rubbing up and down and around.
Jesus. My mouth falls open. I don't watch them for more than a few seconds before my cock jerks in my pants and Liam's face pops into my mind all at the same time.
"Are you fucking kidding me…" It's not until the men break their kiss and two horny faces look at me simultaneously that I realized I said the words out loud. Shit. My head snaps left and I look at a random man pressed against a woman he’s with.
I say louder this time, "There you are! I've been looking all over for you," just to get the other guys off my back.
The man's brow furrows. "Sorry," I mutter as I march right past him. "I confused you with someone else."
Jesus. I have to find Liam before I get my ass kicked for real.
I slide between sweaty bodies, my hope evaporating with every step I take.
A few minutes later, I'm ready to call it quits when a buzz-cut in the distance catches my attention. My pulse rises as my brain registers it's Liam's head towering above everyone else’s.
I pick up the pace as much as I can, bumping against strangers, throwing haphazard apologies every few steps until I finally reach the bar area where Liam is standing, one arm propped against the bar top, chatting up one of the bartenders.
Cutting into their conversation probably isn't optimal, but what other choice do I have? I already lost him once tonight.
Here goes nothing. I squeeze between Liam and a group of people to his left, bumping against them and forcing them to move a few inches. A leather-clad lady gives me a side-eye. I muster a polite smile. I don't have it in me to apologize anymore tonight.
Liam doesn't notice me at first, leaning over the bar, listening intently to whatever the bartender is saying.
The man behind the bar is wearing the same black attire I saw Sawyer in the last time I've been here, his blond strands falling on his forehead, partly covering huge, green eyes. He's good looking.
My gaze ping-pongs between him and Liam.
Too good looking.
I make sure to stand straight, puff out my chest, glare at the side of Liam's head and audibly clear my throat.
He doesn't notice, so I do it again, louder this time, the sound dying out in the chaos of the club as soon as I make it.
Liam's still oblivious, but the bartender spots me then, directing his attention to me. "What can I get you?" he asks with a Hollywood smile. Damn it. He's nice, too.
"Actually, I just wanted a word with this guy." I jerk my chin toward Liam's side. And then he finally notices.
Two hundred pounds of pure muscle turns my way. "Well, well," his deep voice tears through the loud music with ease. "If it isn't the FBI."
I let out a breath I was holding, the air escaping my lips in a soft, shaky sigh. At least he remembers me.
"Problem?" the bartender asks, his brows raised.
"Nah, all good. Talk later," Liam tells him, before turning his attention back to me. His crew cut is a little longer on the top than it was a few weeks ago, but his deep-set eyes haven't lost their intensity. "I was wondering when I'd see you again."
A wave of heat runs through me. I make sure the bartender is out of earshot and put my elbow on the bar top, mirroring Liam. "You have?"
"Once someone steps foot in this place, they always come back."
"Guess that's true for me…" I grin, leaning in closer, "although probably for different reasons." I try to infuse my voice with as much seduction as I can, then realize how ridiculous I must sound. Fuck.
"Care to share?" Liam asks, his eyes narrowing slightly, his gaze flicking up and down my body as if he's trying to read me. Suddenly, I feel more naked that everybody in this godforsaken joint, despite being one of the few fully clothed ones.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Dare I say it?
Fuck it. I didn't come here to chicken out. "You. You're the reason," I admit. "I've been thinking about you."
Someone bumps into me from behind, shoving me forward.
I stumble, grabbing Liam's arm to steady myself.
Hard muscle flexes under my palm and I suck in a sharp breath.
Our bodies connect for the briefest second—but long enough for me to feel the solid width of his chest and the unyielding strength in his frame.
Then I'm upright again and he's stepping away, out of reach. "You shouldn't have," he says flatly. "Look, you should go."
I frown. "Why? You were hitting on me, so I know it's not me—"
"It is you."